


My Demons

by tillthestarsevaporate



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Tumblr Prompt, dinahsiren - Freeform, sirencanary - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 02:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillthestarsevaporate/pseuds/tillthestarsevaporate
Summary: Dinah is finally back home from the hospital after she is injured. Laurel goes to check on her. Deep conversation ensues.Takes place between 7x13 (Star City Slayer) and 7x15 (Training Day). Loosely.I had the idea but wasn't sure if I wanted to write it, until it was requested on Tumblr. So shoutout to glitterrockklaine!





	My Demons

**Author's Note:**

> "Take me high and I'll sing  
> You make everything okay  
> We are one and the same  
> You take all of the pain away  
> Save me if I become  
> My demons."  
> -My Demons by Starset.

It’s almost ten o’clock that night when DA Laurel Lance locks her office and leaves, her mind all too aware of only one thing, or rather one person, since she woke up that morning: Dinah Drake. It’s been a couple of weeks since Dinah was injured, since Laurel has had to rush home from D.C. to see for herself that Dinah was safe despite Felicity’s continual reassurances.

She’s seen Dinah quite frequently since their encounter at the hospital that day after surgery. Laurel has made a habit of dropping by to check on her after work every other day, at least once during the weekend, and calling on the days she doesn’t drop by. If it was up to her, Laurel would have loved nothing more than to check on the other woman every single day. Of course her main concern was making sure Dinah is recovering well, but there was another more selfish reason: she missed her terribly and wanted to see her like she did when they were constantly running into each other as DA and Police Captain. Popping by every day, however, would have raised more suspicion from Dinah and the other members of the team than the two women’s current _arrangement_.

Laurel had come to quite enjoy those visits. She’d get dinner, head for Dinah’s place, and fill her ears with Tales from the District Attorney’s office while they devoured their food. It would be very late by the time Laurel senses the other woman’s exhaustion and excuses herself with a promise to come again in a couple of days.

She’d just seen Dinah yesterday, but today was Dinah’s first day back after the injury, a fact that warrants an exception to the routine, it seems. Since Laurel woke up, she’d been dying to check on Dinah but had reluctantly resigned to not be a bother during work hours. Instead, she’d been running around all day, not giving herself room to breathe. The work she’s had to attend to had resumed past the End of Day, and she’d had to work later than she thought. Normally, working late never bothered her; why should it when she would be greeted by an empty apartment when she returns home? Today, however, the one downside of working late is the lengthier wait before she got to see Dinah, and it was harder than she anticipated, let alone the possibility that Dinah might already be asleep by now, having likely taken her painkillers for the night.

She has to go, though. How can she not? She simply cannot fathom another minute of the day without Dinah’s company. She decides a safe bet would be to get there and knock only twice, wait for two minutes, and assume that Dinah is already knocked out if she doesn’t answer within that time frame, unknowingly grateful that she managed to evade Laurel’s sudden and strange fascination with the number “two”.

Right after picking up dinner - pizza, the simplest and best of all edibles - that’s exactly what she does. She reaches the front of Dinah’s apartment and knocks. Once, twice. No answer. She checks her watch - 10:30 pm. She waits. Decides to go against her plan and knocks a third time. Still nothing. Worry gets the best of her as she takes out her phone and dials Dinah’s number. What if the reason Dinah isn’t coming to the door is that she was hurt again?

As the phone rings, she hears steps from behind the door. Those steps, although slow, calm Laurel’s head for a split second before Dinah opens the door, the haunted expression on her face sinking Laurel’s heart to the floor. Dinah turns and walks back into the apartment. She doesn’t say a word. No snarky comment, no sardonic inquiry about the reason Laurel is there, nothing. Is Dinah like this on all the days Laurel doesn’t drop by?

The absence of a direct invitation doesn’t stop Laurel from stepping over the threshold and closing the door behind her. Hesitantly, she follows in the direction Dinah has disappeared. She finds her in the kitchen, so she takes the opportunity to quietly place their pizza in the oven without turning it on - to keep it warm. She then regards Dinah with as neutral an expression as she can muster in response to her peculiar behaviour.

As if Dinah felt eyes on her, she turns to Laurel.

“Coffee?” She asks.

“It’s almost eleven,” Laurel answers.

Dinah shrugs. Laurel knows Dinah has a high tolerance for caffeine, making coffee this late unlikely to cause her any damage at all.

“I’ll have green tea if you insist.”

Still not directly acknowledging Laurel, Dinah reaches for the green tea bags in the cupboard and puts the kettle on the stove.

The deafening silence has crawled into Laurel’s head, and it didn’t register well with her. Something is definitely wrong.

“Dinah, look at me.”

“I’m fine, Laurel.”

“The fact that you are telling me this without even being asked speaks volumes.” Laurel reigns in her impatience - she’s still learning and now is the worst time to misstep. She moves closer to Dinah, but not too close; she’s also trying to be more aware of the importance of personal space. “What happened?”

“Laurel, please. Let’s just have our drinks and call it a night.”

“Really.”

Dinah doesn’t answer, and instead reaches for the stove and turns it off. She pours the tea into two mugs and hands one to Laurel, then walks to the sofa. Laurel follows.

Once seated next to each other, Laurel remembers the reason she’s here. Not the selfish one, no. The more important one - although one can make an argument for the importance of either of the reasons. Maybe pushing the almost-conversation in that direction will give Laurel a clue or two about Dinah’s disposition.

But first, pizza is needed to silence Laurel’s growling stomach. Laurel places her mug on the coffee table and retrieves the pizza box from the oven, not wasting any time when she returns to the table.

“How was your first day?” she asks as she picks up a slice and takes her first bite. At this point, eating is only a chore with the sole purpose of feeding a hungry, overworked DA, not a fun activity like it used to be.

“I already ate,” comes Dinah’s indifferent response to Laurel’s unasked question.

Laurel doesn’t humour her and shrugs instead, refusing Dinah’s attempts to deflect her question, repeating it, “Your first day, Dinah. How did it go?”

“Laurel, I already told you I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because the way I see it, something happened and you’re not okay. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” Laurel points to Dinah, moving her index finger up and down in the air. “You can’t fool me.”

“Laurel, please. I don’t want to talk about-”

“Ha! I was right. There is something.”

Dinah almost smiles. Laurel senses the hesitation and reminds herself to relax and talk less aggressively.

“How is the pain? Does it still hurt when you try to speak up?”

Dinah winces, and Laurel knows she’s hit a sore point. If there was indeed no pain, Dinah would have instantly confirmed it.

Laurel sets her pizza slice back in the box and rubs her hands together to get rid of the crumbs.

She puts her hand on Dinah’s knee. “Tell me what’s wrong. Something is obviously bothering you. Something important.”

She looks at Dinah, witnessing the pain in her features, in her sharp inhales, in the way she tries to avoid eye contact.

Last night, Dinah was fine, even excited to go back to work. A complete opposite of the Dinah next to her now. She would do good to stop pushing Dinah to talk, so she just sits there in silence, keeping her hand on Dinah’s knee as she resumes eating with the other one.

“You’re missing a lot. This pizza is magnificent.”

“Thank you, Laurel.”

“Don’t thank me until you eat. You’ll want to kiss me once you discover how incredible this pizza is.” Laurel isn’t even surprised at how easily those words left her mouth, not anymore. The more she talked to Dinah these past days, the more natural it felt to just say what’s on her mind.

She seemed to have convinced Dinah, because she smiles and devours a pizza slice in two mouthfuls.

“Food for the soul,” Laurel says.

Dinah snorts, almost choking. She swallows. “It’s very good.”

Pleased with herself, Laurel beams. “You owe me a kiss.”

Dinah takes a sip from her tea. She had originally intended to drink coffee but opted for green tea to match Laurel’s drink instead. Quite flattering, and not something Dinah would do for anyone. Laurel isn’t stupid. She knows Dinah had grown to care about her, and they’ve had a few _moments_ in the past weeks to confirm Laurel’s hypothesis. The feelings were mutual.

For the next while, Laurel and Dinah eat in silence, falling into their usual rhythm once they’re done; they’d get up together and clean up. Laurel would then go wash her hands in the washroom sink while Dinah does the same in the kitchen sink.

When that’s done, Laurel returns to the living room to find Dinah back on the sofa, her previously troubled expression back in full swing.

“Are you okay?” Laurel asks and rushes to her side.

“I think I lost my canary cry.”

The words slam into Laurel’s chest like she’d been punched. Repeatedly. By Grodd.

“Okay, calm down. I’m sure that’s not true. What happened?”

“I tried to use my cry today on the field, but something went wrong. It didn’t work right.”

“It was painful?” Laurel asks.

“It hurt like someone was scraping knives along the inside of my throat,” Dinah growls, tears pricking her eyes.

“Oh.” How is that possible? Is she now the only one with a cry?

She shakes herself out of it. It doesn’t matter that she’s uncomfortable. This isn’t about her, she needs to stop being selfish and focus on the friend who needs her.

The ease they’ve shared for weeks suddenly disappears, and she struggles to fish for a satisfactory response. What would make Dinah feel better, hopeful even?

“Dinah, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe it’s just temporary, and you’ll have it back once you’ve fully healed,” Laurel tries.

“Maybe.”

“Hey,” Laurel whispers, her hand covering Dinah’s.

Dinah visibly pulls a deep breath in and looks at her. “What if it doesn’t come back? What if that’s it?”

“Then we’ll deal with it. But we need to have some faith.” She squeezes Dinah’s hand.

“We?”

“Oh yes, did you think I was going to let you deal with it alone? No chance, not even on Earth X.”

That earns a tight smile from Dinah, but her tears spill regardless. Laurel hopes she puffed some hope into Dinah’s black, rainy cloud despite the tears.

“You’re not alone, Dinah,” Laurel reassures.

“You know, when I found out, you’re the only person I wanted to tell. But I was so scared. I didn’t know how you would react. We have a good thing going here and I didn’t want that to change. I was scared you’d change your mind about me.”

“How-”

“Let me finish, please.”

Laurel sighs.

“I was scared, but another part of me knew you would be the only one who would understand.”

About that, she is right. Laurel cannot imagine losing her cry. She does remember a time before she had it, but it has grown to be Laurel’s sole survival mechanism for years, now an indispensable part of her.

Maybe this is what empathy feels like. Maybe this feeling of selfless sadness that’s overcoming her senses is a result of empathy for Dinah because she understands what the cry means to her more than anyone.

“You’re the only one who knows the true me, the real me.”

Laurel’s chest tightens. She feels helpless in the face of the tragedy that has stricken her closest friend.

“I’m done. You can talk now,” Dinah says.

The tears on Dinah’s face seem to have dried on her cheeks. That must be good, right? Pushed by the possibility that she might’ve positively impacted Dinah, she pulls into her lungs as much air as they can hold and releases it slowly.

Laurel slides closer to Dinah’s side until their thighs are touching. Slowly, she places an arm around Dinah’s back. Almost unnoticeably, Dinah stiffens for a split second. When Laurel feels her relax against her arm, her confidence soars and she pulls the other woman closer still. She feels Dinah adjust her own body and Laurel’s reluctance threatens to make a comeback.

Better safe than sorry, right? At least that’s the mind-set she’s been trying to adopt as of late in an attempt to distance herself from her evil alter ego, the mind-set that forces her to make sure Dinah wants the physical contact.

“Is this okay?” she asks as she slightly pulls away so she can see Dinah’s face.

Dinah nods, and Laurel doesn’t let her thoughts swirl further as she pulls Dinah closer, much closer. Closer still.

Dinah’s head shifts to crookedly fill the space between Laurel’s neck and chest, eliciting in Laurel an emotion she can’t identify. She feels useful, wanted. Like she can help anyone achieve anything. She can’t quite name the emotion, but all she can think about is how Dinah needs comfort and finds it, hopefully, in the arms of someone she had hated for so long. Laurel is equally content and scared that it’s only fleeting; soon, Dinah will realise her mistake in trusting her and pull away. For good.

At the invading thought, she resolves to make the best of the situation she’s in right now. She tightens her hold on Dinah, if that’s even possible. She nuzzles her nose in Dinah’s hair and inhales the smell of soot and rubber - a result of spending the day at the precinct or an outdoor assignment, she guesses.

She presses her cheek against Dinah’s forehead and relaxes her stance, giving Dinah the leeway to decide what to do next.

“Laurel?” Dinah whispers.

“Hmm?” Laurel pulls an inch apart and meets Dinah’s eyes.

“I am sorry I am always so hard on you.”

“That’s understandable, Dinah. I hurt you a lot, and I knew all along that getting you to stand to be in the same room with me is a long shot.”

“Believe it or not, I _like_ being with you.”

“I care about you. A lot.” The words are accidentally out of Laurel’s mouth and now it’s too late to take them back.

“I know,” Dinah whispers, a hint of a smile on her lips. “I care about you, too.”

“Mhmm,” Laurel mumbles, reaching out and gently caressing the back of Dinah’s ear with her thumb.

She cannot believe what is happening.

Dinah shuts her eyes, her breath slightly ragged, and Laurel pulls away. Maybe all this is too much. Dinah is hurting, and they need to focus on that for now.

Laurel clears her throat. “So, now that we’ve established our mutual feelings, I feel it’s my right to reprimand you for being so hard on yourself.”

Dinah rolls her eyes. “I agree. Go on, Laurel.”

“Well, first of all, how dare you think I’m going to leave you alone just because you have supposedly lost your cry?”

“I am sensing a speech.”

“Oh yes, Dinah. You better. You lost your cry, so what? You’re much more than just your cry. You’re the SCPD Captain. You’re the black fucking canary!”

“Not anymore.”

“Uh-uh, you’re going to let me finish, too, you hear me?” Laurel feels her control dissipating into thin air. How dare Dinah think so low of herself? Didn’t she just say she knows Laurel cares about her? How does she not realise how highly Laurel thinks of her? “Dear Dinah, contrary to common belief, your _canary_ cry isn’t what makes you the black _canary_! Think of the number of times you’ve defeated bad guys without using your cry. That’s only, like, all of the SCPD operations before the mayor found out. So don’t you dare tell me you’re not the black canary anymore!”

Understandably, during Laurel’s outburst, the two women had pulled apart. Dinah’s eyes widen. In disbelief, shock, fear, it doesn’t really matter. She needed to hear what Laurel said.

Laurel breathes, consciously counting every inhale and exhale. “I’m done,” she tells Dinah.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I won’t feel sorry for myself.” A pause. “I will try.”

“That easy?”

“I wouldn’t in a million years describe your speech as easy.”

“You’re right. I can’t believe I said all that in one breath.”

Dinah stands up and gets a pitcher of water and two glasses from the kitchen. She sits back down, fills one, and hands it to Laurel.

“Thank you,” Laurel says and downs the cup in one big gulp.

“Ok, Laurel, you need to slow down. First, you’re forgetting to breathe, then you’re forgetting to breathe. Only you would forget to breathe in two different ways.”

“Sorry. I just have very strong feelings right now.”

“About that. I want you to know that I am grateful for your strong feelings. Also for everything you’ve done for me since before I even left the hospital. It really means a lot.”

“I didn’t do it for a thank you or to prove a point, which I know is what you’re thinking.”

“No, it isn’t. I’ve noticed the way you’re evolving.” Laurel knew it was a bit rude to assume Dinah didn’t notice. After all, they’ve been spending a lot of time together; if anyone noticed the change, it was Dinah. Even from the beginning, Dinah had known her more than anyone ever had.

“Well, I just saw someone I care about in trouble and helped.”

“I see,” Dinah nods, a hint of a smile at the tips of her lips. “So what’s the second thing?”

“What second thing?”

“You said ‘firstly’ when you speech-punched me, but you never got to the second part.”

“Yes, I remember. I want to help. Tell me how and I will try my best. Anything at all.” Laurel squeezes Dinah’s hand again and fully turns her body to face Dinah. She has an idea or two about what she wants to do, but she’ll let Dinah decide on that herself.

“Well, how about that kiss you owe me?”

“Hmm… I thought _you_ owed _me_.”

“Does it matter?”

“If it makes you feel better-”

Dinah raises an eyebrow. “It will, Laurel. Stop talking.”

“All right, all right,” she rolls her eyes then reaches for Dinah’s other hand. Her hands are unusually soft from lack of policing for weeks.

Dinah’s turned-serious face perfectly matches Laurel’s inner turmoil. She moves closer.

Laurel gasps on the inside; she is finally going to kiss Dinah. She’ll finally find out how those lips taste.

Sparks. She feels sparks. She knows they aren’t really sparks, but that’s certainly how they feel when the tension borders on unbearable.

She is suspended, she can’t move. Laurel resolves to commit this first kiss to memory, so she keeps her eyes open as Dinah shuts hers. She keeps them open as Dinah’s face nears, tilts. Laurel’s breath hitches as she surrenders to this inevitability. She lets go, closes her eyes. Dinah’s hot breath flutters on her cheeks. She tilts her head in the opposite direction to Dinah’s.

Lips find hers.

_Finally._

Restless butterflies accompany the touch, the urge to explore blinding. Laurel brushes her lips sideways, trying to commit the softness to memory. She feels Dinah’s hands detangling from hers, letting go and caressing her arms instead. In response, Laurel pulls Dinah’s face, completely unravelling under the pressure and kissing her with unprecedented fervour. Her desire takes over as she opens her mouth, her tongue seeking invitation to dance with Dinah’s.

The exchange grows heated by the femtosecond, and Laurel has to force herself to slow down and eventually pull away from the kiss.

“And I present to you a third way to forget to breathe,” she says.

Dinah laughs, her breathing evening out, her stance relaxing for the first time since Laurel came over.

“So did it work?”

“I do feel much better now,” Dinah grins.

“I have an even better idea.”

“Enlighten me, Laurel.” Dinah’s dimples trigger the butterflies again. No rest for the poor creatures today.

Laurel lightly holds Dinah’s gaze. “You know, what we did at the hospital.”

“Cuddling,” Dinah answers as if she read Laurel’s mind. She laughs. “Is it so hard to say?”

“Shut up.”

“Come on. I’m not letting you go home this late. You’re staying over. And no suggestions of sleeping out here on the couch.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Knowing her resistance will be futile, Laurel obliges and follows Dinah into her bedroom, aware that that would be another fruitless argument. She changes into pyjamas lent to her by Dinah and sinks under the covers beside her.

The air has grown quiet around them, but Laurel feels the most comfortable she’s felt in a while.

“How are you now?” She asks Dinah.

“Better.” Dinah smiles as she turns to face the other woman.

“I’m glad.” Laurel gives Dinah one of her half smiles, the ones that escape her conscious mind when she feels she’s done something good for someone else.

A minute later, Dinah turns off the light next to her.

“Come here,” Laurel says. She guides them both so that Dinah’s face is nestled against Laurel’s chest.

“This feels really good.”

Laurel pulls Dinah closer and whispers, “Sleep tight. And I’ll be here if anything happens, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dinah says, the rise and fall of her chest in unison with Laurel’s.

Laurel’s heart flutters from happiness as she closes her eyes and drifts to sleep, content to have Dinah in her arms for at least this night, vowing to be there for her as long as Dinah will have her.

 _For a long, long time_ , she hopes.

 

 


End file.
